I found out a friend just landed a book project. I’m happy for her. But I also hate her a little. She’s worked hard for it, putting in the time and work and persistence. I’ve been busy changing sheets and cleaning crayon-ed walls and adopting a kid. I haven’t had much time to write.
And today I’m sad I don’t have a book contract. Today I’m sad I don’t have deadlines and revisions and advances. Instead I have fitness classes I don’t know how to teach and a 6 year-old I’m about to lose to first grade.
If I’m honest, I’ve occasionally thought about what I could do if I had a different life.